A Plum Fairytale
by Shreek
Summary: Sometimes stories need more than a fairytale ending. Sometimes they need to be a complete fairytale themselves. Please enjoy my JEv fairytale.


**CHAPTER ONE**

_**[AUTHOR'S NOTE:]**__** This story is brought to you today by insanity, my bestie (Svendances) who not only reflects my crazy back at me but also insists (nags, berates, harasses me until) I write it down in a cohesive story and post it on a public forum for all to boggle at; and the number nine.**  
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_!_

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away lived a mighty King and his merry Queen.

As far as King's and Queen's go, they didn't stand out. They were peaceful rulers, who believed in negotiation and compromise as opposed to war. They lived long and reigned well, and for many, many years they longed for an heir to pass their legacy onto. Visiting many a Healer, Witch, Fairy and Seer, to find a cure, remedy or spell that would help them conceive.

Alas, it seemed it was not to be.

Our story begins several years later, after the King and Queen had given up hope. Eight months after the Queen had realised she was missing her monthly cycle and six and a half months after the morning sickness had begun. It was at why-the-hell-am-I-even-awake o'clock in the morning when a piercing scream rent across the castle. No. It was not the cry of a newborn baby. It was the shriek of a woman who after days of painful contractions and inane questions about 'how are you feeling?' and assurances of 'it'll be over soon' from her midwives and husband (who, really, was the one at fault here anyway) had finally had enough and WANTED IT OUT.

At this point the Queen was regretting having the King kicked out of the room. Oh, what she wouldn't give to break a few fingers to repay him for the pain she suffered! Of course, fingers would in no way equal her pain but any discomfort to him would greatly increase her peace of mind. Or so she assumed. Not that she was assuming very much at the moment, she was actually very inordinately busy trying to give birth. The thought of which only drew out more rage toward the King. If HE hadn't put his THING in her all those months ago, she wouldn't be in this mess! Oh how she'd like to break THAT!

She shrieked again and again. Hurling profanities toward the doorway her husband paced on the other side of. If she couldn't break his fingers (or his THING), she'd damn well let him know what she thought of him and his THING.

None of it was very flattering, really. And her throat was dry, torn and sore and after starting yet another tirade about how his mother was a donkey and his father had a more than usual interest in farm animals and how that related to her husband's eating habits a second voice began shrieking in discord with her own. A high clear voice that irritated the very inner ear. The cry of a baby. HER baby. And she began to cry too. At last! So many years, and now she could hold her own little darling! And what a blessing it was! Praising God and the fates and her husband's THING, she reached for her darling, her miracle, her little baby boy.

**!&*!&*!&*!&***

Three weeks and two days after the birth of the new Prince, a grand Ball was held in his honour. Three weeks and two days must seem awfully specific to you, but it had to be at least that long, due to circumstances. The first of which was the invitations had to be sent out. One cannot hold a party if there are no guests! Given that some invitations had to be sent to the surrounding kingdoms, we must count four days ride on the fastest messenger in the kingdom, and seven days for the more staid journey back with the neighbouring King and /or Queen and entourage. Not to mention that it took our Mighty King a week to recover his courage enough to talk to his wife (many of her threats from the morn of the Prince's birth would still haunt the King's dreams many years later) about who to invite in the first place! Then of course there are formal greetings, and food and entertainment to arrange on top of that!

At last the Grand Ball was upon them. The King and Queen sat on their thrones in the great hall gazing tenderly at their mocha skinned bundle of joy sleeping peacefully in the golden crib before them. It seemed that they could not take their eyes from him, for they took no notice of their surroundings. People, of all walks of life and statue mingled together. Feasting, dancing, it mattered not that a Duchess danced with a poor farmer or that the baker's daughter was sneaking kisses with the young new Baron, for it was a time of merriment that all could share.

Which much 'coughing' and 'throat clearing' from the King's mage, the King finally remembered the most important part of the evening was yet to come. The official presentation of the new Prince.

Leaving his wife and son's side for the first time since the Ball began the King called for order.

"My good people gather! Your Royale Majesties from near and far, my friends and subjects, I welcome you all. Tonight you join me and my wife in celebration! For many years we have longed for this, the birth of our son. We present to you now, the Crown Prince Ricardo Carlos!"

Cheers rose in waves, many sounding quite less than sober and then, as if perfectly rehearsed, a line began to form leading up to the golden crib. At the front were King's and Queen's, the Dukes, Duchesses, Barons and Lord and Ladies all bearing gifts and well-meant blessings and wishes for the infant. After that a string of peasants formed, some who could afford it bore gifts but most merely wanted to catch a sight of the boy and bless him with their words.

The queue stretched far. Through the great hall and zigzagging all around the courtyard and still there seemed no end to it. For each time congratulations had been extolled to the King and Queen and one left the queue another person would hop on the end. On and on it went. Seconds to minutes. Minutes to hours.

At last! The end was in sight!

After what seemed like days - but was really only four hours and twenty-two minutes later - there were only three people left in line. Three big burly men, hands as big as meat cleavers and the shortest of which still towered head and shoulders over normal men. Never was there such an apt example of the description 'Built like a brick outhouse'. Everyone knew who these men were, and not just because their physique stood out so much. For these three men were known far and wide as the three good fairies.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking 'Fairies? Why were they at the end of the line? With such mystical powers SURELY they should have taken the place at the front?'

Well you see, they had dedicated themselves to the service of the people. Selflessly putting other's needs before their own. That is the way of the Fairy after all.

"Dude this sucks ass," Lester moaned out of the corner of his mouth to his fellow fairies Bobby and Tank. "Why couldn't we be at the front of the line? If people argued we could've like, zapped them or something."

Bobby murmured in agreement, "Yeah, my feet are killing me".

"We've dedicated our lives to the service to others. We selflessly put other people's needs above our own. It's the way of the Fairy. We've been through all this before, have you forgotten already?" Tank intoned in his deep rumbling voice.

"Yeah, yeah." He paused, mid step. "Wait... what do I have to say up there again?"

"Magic, fickle, responsibility. Now, get your ass up there!" Hissed Bobby, giving Lester a shove up the stairs to thrones and crib.

Everyone had been waiting for this moment, to see what gifts the fairies would bestow upon the infant Prince. Bets had been flowing since word spread of the fairies invitation to the ball.

"They'll bless him with riches!" one had said

"He's already got riches, and fairies don't deal with gold" argued another.

"It'll definitely be wisdom"

"Wisdom's earned, not given!"

The moment Lester's foot hit the top of the platform silence spread throughout the Great Hall. It was a good thing that this fairy did not suffer from stage fright.

"Glad I don't get stage fright," Lester murmured to himself as he approached the royal family.

"Your Royal Majesties," he bowed low, "As you know magic is a fickle thing, it should neither be given nor received lightly. And as with any gift these blessings comes responsibility." As if to say, _'see? I got it right' _Lester's threw a look over his shoulder at Tank and Bobby, before continuing, "Knowing this, you still wish for your son to receive these blessings?"

With a nod from both King and Queen, Lester approached the crib. He drew his wand from mid-air with a gentle flick of his hand. The wand itself was remarkable only in it unremarkable-ness. To those who gazed upon it looked like a mere wooden spoon, though its head was smaller than its handle length might've suggested. For what most people do not know is that any implement can be used as a wand. Though wood is by far the most magically conductive element.

"With these words and with this wand I bless you, boy, with the gift of charm. You shall never lack the words you need, nor shall you waste the words you don't."

It is a common misconception (or perhaps a performer's embellishment) that when a spell is cast that sparkles or fairy dust will sprinkle out to let you know thy will have been done. So you can imagine how anticlimactic Lester's blessing ended up being when nothing of the sort happened.

Next came Bobby. His wand looked strangely like an obscenely large crochet hook. Also wooden.

"With these words and with this wand I bless you, boy, with the gift of intelligence. May knowledge pursue you as much as you pursue it".

Bigger than both previous fairies, and quite clearly the leader of the three, Tank approached the crib. His real name wasn't "Tank", and while you might think he'd been nicknamed such since he is 'built like a tank', you'd be wrong. 'Cause that's just silly. You're modern, everyday tank hadn't been invented yet, duh! Medieval times remember?

Tank was ACTUALLY short for 'tankard'. You know? As in the huge drinking mug? Bobby and Lester never quite figured out whether it because he always ordered a tankard when they went to the pub, or because his general shape was like one, or because it was a subtle inference about the ratio of the size of a tankard to a regular mug being quite similar to ratio of the size of Tank to a normal man. They also never figured out Tank's real name. Which is not actually relevant right now.

What IS relevant is what happened precisely 1.2 seconds before Tank SHOULD have arrived at the infants crib to give his blessings. Namely, an interruption. In this case the interruption was named Joseph Morelli. He was bad. Really bad. And also a fairy. He had a wand and everything. Materializing between the crib and Tank, Morelli gave his surroundings a sneer. His eyes landed on the King and his sneer damn-near turned into a snarl.

"Your Majesty," though he bowed neither his words nor actions seemed sincere.

The whole of the grand hall held their breaths.

The entire kingdom knew of the Morellis'. The entire family was wicked to the core. Witches, sorcerers, bandits, thieves, murderers. But when you spoke of the Morellis' there were two above all else whom the people feared. Grandma Bella, the old matriarch and Joseph, her favourite grandson.

Their fear gave Morelli a bitter taste in his mouth. When he was younger he'd had the notion of becoming GOOD, hence why he studied fairy arts instead of sorcery. Shunned by his family and feared because of his surname he never quite succeeded in being good. He couldn't beat the prejudice against him. Eventually he gave up. Doomed to be bad, he thought. Intending to stay out of sight, out of mind for the rest of his days. That is, until his Grandmother came to him with a vision.

Grandmother Bella had the sight. In it she had seen the downfall of her favoured grandson. If it had been any of her other grandchildren, those petty pathetic creatures, she would have merely let it come to pass, but not Joseph. He had REAL power, and respect for it. So she told him:

_And so it will come to pass that the prince of the Kingdom of Manoso will bring your downfall. You must destroy him before he has the chance._

Thus, that is what brought Morelli here on this night.

Morelli knew he could not outright kill the child. That would be murder. But that was not the only way to dispose of someone.

"It would seem, your Majesties," his smooth tone melted like chocolate, "that your invitation lost itself on its way to the Morelli House. Surely this must be the case, for I _know_ you would not forget to send one to some of your most respected subjects. Despite this _unfortunate_ occurrence, my Grandmother has seen fit to send me to represent my House and extol our blessings". He grinned. Daring the King to say something, anything. Morelli knew the King had never feared his family. Perhaps now that would change. Hard to be fearless when you have something precious to lose. Speaking of...

"What a precious bambino. He'll look just like you." He said to the king.

Before anyone could stop him, he drew his wand from mid-air; it was a wicked looking thing. Bent with cruelty. "With this wand and with these words I _curse_ you boy. Before you reach manhood you will slice your hand on the blade of a weapon, this will be your downfall, and the collapse of this kingdom!" Clever was he, clever indeed. Though a death curse, he never used the word, and thus could not be charged with murder when the boy eventually did die. Not only that, he cursed the kingdom to die when the boy did. His grandmother never said it was THIS prince that would cause his downfall, just A prince of the Manoso Kingdom. There is no guarantee another will not be born. Nor that it will be this generation, not the next or the one after that. Or even this direct family line, should another take over the throne. Seeing the future is difficult and hazy at best, so best to take precautions, Morelli thought, and destroy the entire kingdom. And then he was gone.

Pandemonium erupted!

The prince was cursed!

The Kingdom was cursed!

The Queen wailed, scooping up her precious son.

The King stood stock still; shock leaving him hollow. This can't be! It can't be happening.

"Save him." He said to Tank. That was it. 'Save him', no emotion, no inflection, just 'save him'.

"I can't."

Wailing even louder the Queen collapsed to her knees.

"What's done is done. But..." He'd noticed Morelli's wording. Downfall... collapse, but never _die_.

He drew his wand. It was a gambit, and he wasn't altogether sure it would work. No. It HAD to work. He had to MAKE it work.

Crouching down beside the Queen he tapped the young prince on the nose with his wand. Prince Ricardo Carlos had been surprisingly quiet throughout this whole ordeal, and even seeing a monstrosity of a man leaning over him didn't faze him in the least. Clearly Lester's blessing had already taken effect.

"With this wand and with these words, I offer you a new fate, boy. Your downfall will be to peaceful slumber, and your Kingdom will collapse to rest, until a kiss awakens you."

You should know that nobody's magic is the same. In the same way each river does one's magic flows differently from another's. To change the course of someone else's spell takes a great amount of energy.

Completely spent, Tank collapsed.

**()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()() ()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(())()()()()()()() ()()()()()()()(()()()()()()()()()()()()()()**

**{OMAKE TIME!}**

_**[[For those of you who DON'T know what an omake is, it is a Japanese term meaning "Extra" or "Bonus" though in English speaking counties it is quite often used by anime fans to describe the special features on a DVD; such as short comedic sketches involving the characters of the show, bloopers, deleted scenes and interviews. I quite enjoy omakes myself, so here we go!]].**_

_**[Svendances is not only my bestie but also works as my sounding board for stories (she gets paid with laughs). I often send her snippets for her opinions on whether it makes sense, is too cheesy or too cheap a laugh, or occasionally just when I'm stuck. Sometimes I am forced to defend my reasoning. ]**_

**SHREEK:** Tank was ACTUALLY short for 'tankard'. You know? As in the huge drinking mug? Bobby and Lester never quite figured out whether it because he always ordered a tankard when they went to the pub, or because his general shape was like one, or because it was a subtle inference about the ratio of the size of a tankard to a regular mug being quite similar to ratio of the size of Tank to a normal man. They also never figured out Tank's real name. Which is not actually relevant right now.

What IS relevant is what happened precisely 1.2 seconds before Tank SHOULD have arrived at the infants crib to give his blessings.

**SVENDANCES:** Precisely 1.2 seconds, huh?

:P

**SHREEK:** Yup :P. I figure 1.2 is about as long as it takes Tank to take a meaningful step

Needed the extra .2 cause he's so big

**SVENDANCES:** Haha

**SHREEK:** Would have been 1 if he'd been normal sized

**SVENDANCES:** Oh dear

**{OMAKE # 2}**

_**[Some ideas from the pre-actually writing phase, also known as the planning stage. I suppose I could have said 'planning' in the first place but I didn't recall the word 'planning' until I got to the end of the sentence. And I suppose I COULD have gone back and edited that, but it seemed like too much effort... it's really late at night...and I'm really tired... I should stop... now]**_

**SVENDANCES:** So... Morelli is only two years older than Ranger...

*insert of toddler Morelli cursing Ranger*

"When he is sixteen yeaws owd he will pwick his pingey on a pointy fing and DIE cos he's a poo brain"

He's not allowed near pointy things!

Kiddie cutlery!

**SHREEK:** hahaha

**SVENDANCES:** Or just someone to cut his food for him

And a ban from the kitchen

The kind of cutlery where the handles are shaped in some creature

Dude

No pointy things would make life hard

**SHREEK:** yeah

**SVENDANCES:** I mean, things like nail upkeep

He'd have to file them

With an Emory board, not a nail file, cos nail files tend to be pointy

**SHREEK:** lots of cushioning

Padded walls!

**SVENDANCES:** Oh god

That's a step too far don't you think?

Walls aren't pointy

The outside corners are

Decorative corner cushions?

**SHREEK:** indeed

**SVENDANCES:** All is furniture is rounded

**SHREEK:** books too

Rounded corners

**SVENDANCES:** And not to be made of wood (furniture)

Cos, ya know, splinters

That would have been one hell of a baby proofing job

**SHREEK:** I don't think I'm going to the "pointy things"

**SVENDANCES:** That kinda never ended


End file.
